


a welcome distraction

by bluejayblueskies



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gentle Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon, Teasing, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29466108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejayblueskies/pseuds/bluejayblueskies
Summary: When Jon’s been staring at a blank document for too long, he sits, mug of tea in hand, and just watches Martin work.Or, at least,sometimeshe just watches Martin work.---Jon thinks Martin should take a break. He expresses his thoughts accordingly.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 21
Kudos: 116





	a welcome distraction

**Author's Note:**

> technically written for the kiss prompts on tumblr for prompt 42: Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.
> 
> no cw apply!

Martin’s been working from home lately, which has been, in Jon’s completely unbiased opinion, a rather wonderful development. They can eat breakfast together in the morning, cups of tea steaming on the table and Jon’s hair still messy around the sides of his face from where he hasn’t taken the time to brush it back yet. Jon can bring Martin tea—"Because Lord knows you made enough for me at the Institute, I’ve got to make it up to you somehow,” he says at Martin’s half-hearted protests—and he can watch the way that Martin smiles at him, warm and sunny in a way that makes Jon’s heart melt in his chest. 

And when Jon’s been staring at a blank document for too long, trying and failing to make the right words appear, he can join Martin at the desk in the bedroom or at the kitchen table or on the couch (because Jon’s attention span has never allowed him to work in one place for too long, and Martin has learned to move accordingly) and take a welcome break. He sits, mug of tea in hand, and just watches Martin work.

Or, at least, _sometimes_ he just watches Martin work.

Today, Martin’s on the couch and Jon is curled up next to his side, staring at the spreadsheets and documents on Martin’s computer screen with waning interest. He thinks this kind of academia is rather dreary—sorting through old archival documents, transforming cursive into typed text, matching ancestral records—but Martin finds a kind of beauty in it that makes his face light up when he talks about it. The scanned documents on Martin’s screen, pulled from a drive hooked up to his computer, are old and yellowed, and Martin’s squinting at them like they hold the secrets of the universe.

“D’you think this says ‘Treneman’ or ‘Tranaman’?” Martin asks after a moment, pointing at an arbitrary word on the screen. “Because I really can’t tell his a’s from his e’s.”

Jon’s read plenty of old, scribbly documents in his time, but Martin’s right; it really could be anyone’s guess. He tells Martin as such, and at Martin’s sigh, he says, “Maybe you should take a break. Squinting at a screen for this long can’t be good for your eyes.”

Martin lets out a chuckle. “Says Mr. _Stays-Up-Until-Two-Working-On-His-Manuscripts_.”

“That’s different,” Jon grouses. “I take breaks. I’m taking a break right now.”

“Sure,” Martin says, amused. After a moment, though, he sighs and says, “I only have a few more documents left, though, and I’ve got to get these to Amanda by tomorrow morning.”

“It’s only noon,” Jon counters. “And you’ll be much more effective if you give your eyes time to rest.”

“Again,” Martin says, “pot calling the kettle black.”

“Yes, yes,” Jon says sullenly. “But I’m trying to be better.” He smiles, just a bit, and says, “I’m on a break right now, aren’t I?”

“I… suppose,” Martin relents. He’s still looking at his screen, brow furrowed. He moves his cursor over the word _Treneman,_ deletes it, and types in _Tranaman_ instead. Then hesitates and changes it back.

This happens two more times before Jon finally sighs and places one hand over Martin’s where it rests against his keyboard. “ _Martin_ ,” he says meaningfully.

“Ugh, just—would it _kill_ people to write _slightly_ more legibly!” Martin says, a bit of frustration leaking into the edges of his voice. “Christ, I know this was the 1800s, but _seriously._ ”

“Okay,” Jon says, and gently moves the laptop off Martin’s lap. Then, in a stroke of inspiration, he carefully, but with clear purpose, climbs onto Martin’s lap until he’s straddling him, arms coming to rest lightly on Martin’s shoulders and fingers brushing against the curling wisps of hair that lie just behind his ears.

“Oh,” Martin says, his voice pitching ever so slightly higher. He recovers quickly, however, and when he next speaks, it’s light and teasing. “I’m sorry, did you need something?”

“You seemed in need of a distraction,” Jon says innocently. “You’re working too hard, Martin.”

“Again,” Martin says, with fond exasperation, “you’re not really one to—”

He cuts off as Jon leans forward and presses his lips soundly against Martin’s. Martin makes a little noise that could be protest or could be surprise, and Jon smiles against his lips before pulling back and saying, “Feeling more amenable to that break?”

“You’re a menace,” Martin says, but the affection in his voice is thick as honey and just as sweet. “A disruption. An antithesis to proper work ethic.”

“Oh?” Jon says. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Martin’s jawline, to his cheek, and then finally to his lips again. He lingers there, enjoying the way that Martin sighs lightly against his mouth, before pulling back again and saying, “And is that a problem?”

“You know,” Martin says, a bit breathlessly, “I feel like it ought to be, but for the life of me I can’t remember why.”

Jon smiles at that and cups Martin’s cheek gently in his hand. “So, then—a break?”

Martin lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose I’ve been convinced.” His hands come to rest lightly on Jon’s hips, pushing the fabric of Jon’s jumper up slightly so that his fingers ghost across the skin of Jon’s sides, and Jon doesn’t quite succeed in suppressing his shiver. “May as well make the most of it.”

“Quite,” Jon says, his smile audible in his voice. And he leans in again.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make my day! if you liked what you read, let me know 💛
> 
> find me on tumblr [@bluejayblueskies](https://bluejayblueskies.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [send me prompts!](https://bluejayblueskies.tumblr.com/post/643066409674555392/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts)


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